𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐔𝐌 (𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑙 𝐷𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑛)

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝐸𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

I sat with my knees brought up to my chest as I wistfully stared into the fire. The cold bricks of an old fireplace pressed against my back; it was a remnant of whatever structure once stood in place of Daryl's camp.

"You hungry?" his raspy voice sounded from above. I looked up and found icy eyes looking down at me, laced with concern. I shook my head and watched him frown.

Since arriving at the camp, Daryl had been keeping his distance, seeming more awkward than usual. He just fiddled around with his bike and inspected his crossbow over and over again.

"Ya need anything?" He scratched his chin.

I still felt the phantom presence of his hands resting on my shoulders, his chest pressing against my back. I wanted so badly for him to touch me like that again.

"Sit with me."

His eyes fell to the spot next to me and his face softened. Daryl sat beside me and leaned his head against the stone fireplace. His bare arm rubbed against the jacket he had given me and I wondered if I should return it.

"I can give you the jacket if you're cold," I offered. Daryl turned to me and let his eyes run up and down before quickly biting his bottom lip.

"Nah, I'm fine. It looks better on you anyway," he answered with the corners of his lips slightly upturned. I chuckled softly at his reference to our time in the CDC when I accidentally ended up with his shirt.

We both watched the campfire wrapped in comfortable silence. I remembered how even back at the CDC, Daryl looked out for me in his own way. He rescued me from a drunken Shane and lead me out of a building that was prone to explode at any second. Daryl was always the one looking out for me, but I rarely did the same.

"What you did for Dale wasn't easy," I spoke softly. He said nothing and shrugged casually. He brought up his knees so that he could rest his arms on top.

"I just didn't want Rick to have to carry that, ya know?" Daryl turned to me with tired eyes.

My heart swelled at his words and I felt selfish for not realizing how hard it must have been for Daryl to do that: to put someone down. I thought that having to watch it was horrible enough, but I couldn't imagine being the one pulling the trigger.

My gaze drifted over to his hands and the tattoo of a skull with crossed-out eyes caught my attention.

"What does that mean?" I gestured to his right hand and Daryl followed my gaze.

"It's the logo for sum band I used to like a while back," he held out his hand towards me so I could get a better look. Without thinking, I reached out and softly traced the skull with my fingertips and his hand slightly tensed under my touch. A sudden urge to lace our fingers together made me drop my hand.

"So, was it like a rock and roll band or something?" I put down my middle and ring finger and left the rest up as I rocked my hand from side to side. Daryl let out the start of a chuckle and ran a hand over his mouth.

"What?" I felt a tiny smile start to grow on my face.

"Yer doin' it wrong," he explained with amusement clear on his face. Daryl took my hand in his and gently pressed my thumb against my two folded fingers. "That's rock n' roll."

"What does the other one mean?" Electricity flew up and down my arm as he kept his thumb softly pressed over mine.

"Just somethin' in sign language," Daryl cleared his throat.

I glanced up from my hand and found his eyes already trained on mine. The blue in them was almost completely swallowed by his growing pupils. Daryl's gaze jumped elsewhere and wandered around for a moment before resting on our hands. His expression suddenly darkened and I felt his thumb wander down below the side of my wrist.